


Death on Two Legs

by BakerKeen



Series: Let Me Count the Ways [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, John's Mind is Blown, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerKeen/pseuds/BakerKeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John joins Sherlock in the shower. He learns something new and Sherlock gets rather sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death on Two Legs

Sherlock startled a bit when John pushed back the shower curtain, then grinned slowly and made some room for his naked partner under the spray. He looked down his body, taking in his damp skin, tight nipples, and soft cock, then leaned in for a kiss that turned out to be salty. "How was your run?"

John huffed a laugh, and Sherlock swelled with pride (and other things) even though this had been an easy deduction; after all, when he woke up, John's trainers were gone along with their owner. This one hadn't taken a consulting detective. Sherlock squeezed some of John's shampoo into his palm and began scrubbing it through the short, greying hair. He leaned in for a slow, soapy kiss. "You don't need to work out," he murmured. "We chase criminals all over London. You get plenty of exercise.

Leaning his head back, John rinsed. "I'm getting fat," he protested, reaching up for another kiss. "Too much of takeaway and Mrs. Hudson's scones."

John had not thought it possible to kiss sarcastically, but Sherlock managed. Then he broke away, reaching for John's soap and rubbing it into a flannel. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about," he growled.

They both wrinkled their noses. "Boyfriend?" John asked. "I mean, obviously we're a couple, but that seems a bit…"

"Juvenile," Sherlock supplied, nodding. "Agreed. Partner? Lover?"

John snorted. "Hi, Nana. I'd like you to meet my lover, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirked, setting the soap back on the shelf. "Well, whatever you are, I don't like anyone insulting you. Every part of you is perfect." He rubbed the flannel over his throat. "If it was my choice, you would never leave the flat without bite marks showing. I could spend hours tasting your neck." 

This was literally true. Just 2 weeks prior, Sherlock spent a full hour worshiping John's neck as he blindly explored his chest, nipples, belly, and hips before bringing him off with a leisurely hand job. Anderson commented on the dark bruises at a crime scene two days later, asking about John's new girlfriend. Sherlock had practically preened when John corrected him, then looked mildly disappointed when Donovan and Lestrade commented that it had been obvious for the past month. 

Sherlock leaned down, slowly sliding his tongue against John's as he rubbed the cloth down his neck to his shoulders and chest. "You're strong," he breathed, breaking away. "You can incapacitate a kidnapper in seconds." He nudged his erection against John's hip. 

John chuckled, snatching a quick kiss and murmuring against his lips. "Such sexy pillow talk." Sherlock frowned, worry lines creasing his face. "I like it," John said, nudging his own hard length against Sherlock's leg as proof. "Keep going." 

Sherlock's face relaxed and he reached between them to slip the soapy cloth over John's cock. "And this? Where do I even begin?" He rubbed over the hard length, eliciting a shiver from John. "First of all, it is so massive as to be enticing and intimidating in equal measure." John laughed, tilting his head in acknowledgement. His one previous gay relationship had mostly consisted of rushed hand jobs in the shower, with the occasional blowjob when they managed to steal a few longer moments away from the rest of the unit. But once, they had managed to get leave at the same time, and in a swankier hotel then they could actually afford, they had taken their time. John's partner had wanted to try bottoming, but after many patient attempts, they had had to accept that it simply was not going to work. John wrinkled his nose at the memory, smiling ruefully at Sherlock. 

" _Ohhh,_ " murmured Sherlock, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You never told me." John merely shrugged in response. Sherlock smiled knowingly. "Well, that won't be a problem for us."

John craned up to kiss him softly. "I hope not, but it would be fine if that never happened." 

Sherlock huffed a quick laugh. "No, I mean I know for certain it's possible." As soon as the words left his lips, Sherlock winced and pressed his lips together firmly, as though to stop himself from saying anything else at the wrong moment.

John smiled wickedly, taking the soapy flannel from Sherlock and reaching around him to swipe it over his bum. "That is excellent news." He squeezed a plump cheek. "Can't wait for you to show me," he murmured, rubbing the cloth across Sherlock's perineum and then reaching between them to get his bollocks and cock soapy.

The ghosts of their previous lovers still seemed to be sharing the shower with them, so Sherlock bent his neck for a kiss, grasping two handfuls of John's arse and pulling him close.

John's cock slipped between Sherlock soapy thighs, and without really thinking about it he rutted gently, and gave a surprised yelp when Sherlock clenched his legs around him. Sherlock's mouth grinned against his, and he tugged again on John's bum, encouraging him to frot some more.

Everything was slick from the soap, and Sherlock's muscular thighs were impossibly tight, maybe even tighter than a woman. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, sank forward again, and moaned lightly into his mouth. "Why does this feel so good?" he asked breathily between kisses. Sherlock chuckled, shrugging and rocking his hips gently in response. 

The friction was absolutely delicious, and John realized that if he tipped his hips up ever so slightly he could rub against Sherlock's bollocks and perineum, eliciting a quiet groan from above him. The sound went directly to his already-overwhelmed cock, and John let out his own groan as he relished the delicious slide of Sherlock's skin around him. Warm water sprayed over then, and Sherlock's curls dripped onto his face when they kissed. Between the warm spray, Sherlock's sly grin, and the friction between them, John's skin grew flushed. 

He leaned back slightly and grabbed Sherlock's hips for leverage before pumping his own more firmly. "Oh my God," he murmured, looking down to watch his cock disappear between Sherlock's gloriously long legs. Why had they never done this before? 

Sherlock snapped his hips forward to meet John's, and he slumped forward to rest his forehead on Sherlock's narrow chest. "Oh my God," he repeated helplessly, ignoring the chuckle vibrating against his cheek. He pulled his head back up for a furious kiss, rutting feverishly, chasing down the orgasm that he could feel building in his spine. Sherlock squeezed his legs tighter and _there_ , there it was. Five more thrusts and John bit Sherlock's shoulder as he came, muffling his strangled cry. Sherlock unclenched his muscles and slowed his hips, letting John pull away after a few more slow rolls of his hips. 

John slumped against the wall. "Oh my _God_ ," he said breathlessly. 

"So you keep saying." Sherlock's voice was smug and amused. John ignored him, closing his eyes against the licks of pleasure shuddering through his body and listening to Sherlock wash his legs before turning the squeaky knobs to shut off the now lukewarm water. He crowded John, kissed him softly. "Come to bed," he whispered. 

They kissed and rubbed and ruffled and tugged until they were both dry, and Sherlock grabbed a dry towel from the hook on the door, abandoning the wet one on the tile floor. John had gone a bit giddy and was steering Sherlock to his old room as he pressed soft, giggly kisses to his mouth. 

Sherlock laid the towel on the bed and pushed John on top of it. He stood there for a moment, admiring John's gorgeous, relaxed body spread out on the bed like the best buffet ever. He rifled through John's bedside stand and emerged with a bottle of cocoa butter. "This is grim, John. You didn't even bother with real lube?"

John giggled, shrugging, and gasped a bit at the cold when Sherlock squeezed lotion onto his thighs. Sherlock settled gently on top of him, pressing in for a languid kiss as he reached between them to line up, and pushed between John's thighs. He rocked gently, reaching up to cradle John's face as he explored his mouth. It was nice, not having to bend to accommodate their height difference. 

Sherlock broke the kiss after awhile, pressing his forehead to John's and continuing his unhurried thrusts. "God, I haven't done this since sixth form," he admitted as John pulled his legs tighter. "You're right, it's pleasant." He captured John's lips again and caressed his face tenderly as his hips moved in a smooth rhythm. He broke away for a moment, stroking over John's cheekbones and lips, tracing his strong jaw. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, before closing back down on John's mouth, licking against the roof of his mouth. He wanted more, wanted to curl up inside John and never leave.

An aching fondness filled his heart as he thought about this miracle who put up with all his quirks, who always protected him and shared his adventures. He pulled back again. "You're _amazing_ ," he said, and it was like a prayer. He closed the small distance between them and plundered his mouth again as he pushed more deeply between his thighs, entwining their fingers above John's head. Emotion consumed him, and suddenly he realized that despite their leisurely pace, he was close.

Sherlock's moan filled John's mouth and their hips quickened. "You're _perfect_." He dipped back down, panting into John's mouth, wanting to consume him, fill him, so John could see and feel what Sherlock saw and felt when he looked at John. He squeezed their fingers, John clenched his thighs, and Sherlock broke away with a gasp. " _God_ , I love you," he whispered before clutching at him, panting into John's mouth as his orgasm broke over him. 

He pumped his hips a few more times and then stilled, rolling off of John reluctantly as he gulped in deep lungfuls of air. He felt John cleaning himself with the towel before lifting his bum to toss it away. Then John's warm weight settled across his chest and his neck tickled with the nuzzling of John's prickly face. He wrapped his long arms around John and basked in the quiet, loose-limbed euphoria that nearly always followed sex with John. 

Distantly, he realized John was grinning against his neck. He rolled his eyes even though John couldn't see it. "You already knew," he rumbled drily. 

"Yes," said John, running his nose up Sherlock's jugular. "But you've never _said_ it before." He kissed his way back to Sherlock's face, planting one to his lips before pulling away uncertainly. "You don't regret it, do you?" 

Sherlock nipped at John's lips. "Only if you're going to make a fuss about it. You know I love you, you idiot."

John's face broke into a heartachingly wide grin and he pressed a triumphant kiss to Sherlock's lips. "I love you, too, you madman." He settled back down on Sherlock's chest, not seeing the smile playing at the detective's lips.


End file.
